


Monster

by MoonCigar



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Frotting, Incest, Kissing, M/M, Outdoor Sex, hurt comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 01:43:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5649124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonCigar/pseuds/MoonCigar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having spent the last thirty years dedicated to getting his brother back. Stanley lives with the realization that his fantasy and reality are not the same. Set during the Stanchurian Candidate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much super-secret-artblog and EveJobs for reading this over and fixing all the issues!

It had been a pretty uneventful day for Stanford, the majority of it fine reading over his old notes. He'd been down in the basement for over eight hours straight now and desperately needed to be doing something else. He wasn’t quite tired enough to pass out on the sofa, television was never something he was particularly fond of, and being the house didn’t seem enticing. A walk outside it was then. 

Stanford could tell how late it was just by the atmosphere in the house. It was quiet and dark as the porch light spilled in through the windows. Stanford walked out into the cool Oregon air and took a deep breath, the air here was nothing like the fishy ocean smell of Glass Shard Beach. No, Gravity Falls, the strangest place on earth, smelled of wet soil, pine trees, and overall wilderness. 

“So, I see you're still up too, huh?” A gravely voice interrupted Stanford's internal monologue. He turned to his left and found his twin sitting on the old beat up couch. Stanley was lounged back, wearing his usual black suit, but the sleeves had somehow been ripped off. Stanford made a point to not let his eyes linger on his brother’s biceps for too long. 

“Uh...Yes.” Stanford replied, turning towards Stanley. “I found myself in the lab for too long, figured that a break was in order.” He stared as his brother’s legs. “What are you still doing up? Don’t you... work early?” He tried to keep the distaste for his brother’s cheap little tourist trap out of his voice.

“I don’t need much sleep these days.”

“Oh...” The silence between them dragged on, neither brother looking at the other. Stanford was about to speak, excusing himself so that he could continue his walk, when Stanley  
spoke. 

“Why don’t...Why don’t you sit with me for a while?” He said, while making an awkward patting motion to the open space next to him on the couch. Stanford's eyes followed the motion, not hesitant of believing what he was seeing or hearing. What was his brother trying to pull?

Stanley gave him and annoyed look, and as if reading his mind retorted,  “I’m not trying to trick you, Poindexter. I just… It’s just been a weird day.”

There was a look in Stan's eyes that Stanford guessed was akin to pleading. Without saying anything he let out a sigh and proceeded to sit next to his brother, ignoring the look of triumph that was radiating from Stan. The silence between them stretched on as Ford crossed one leg over the other, trying to make himself more comfortable in this awkward situation. 

“Dipper and Mable told me about the mind controlling tie.”

“...Oh?” Stanford had  hoped that they'd given Stanley prior warning, but given that they were dealing with his brother, taking control of him without his knowing had probably been a requirement. “Are you mad?”

“I was, 'till I realized how bad of a politician I was on live television.”

“It was for your own good, Stanley,” Stanford started, preparing to defend his actions, but Stanley replied with a simple, “I guess.” 

The silence loomed on. Stanford was starting to wonder why he agreed to sit down on the lumpy couch to begin with. If Stan wasn't upset about the tie, what did he want to talk about? Better yet, why did he seem so calm? The air around him felt light, unlike the usual grumpy gloom Stanford had felt whenever they were in a room together.

“You know what my worst fear was?” Stanley started again.

 “What?” Ford said, snapping out of his thoughts and looking over to his brother.

“For the longest time, for the last 30, hell, the last 40 years. My biggest fear was failing and never getting to see you again.” Stan slouched his shoulders, forearms resting on his thighs and his face staring straight ahead. “I had this idea, this fantasy, that I replayed over and over in my head. That I'd have this feeling of, I don’t know, fulfillment.”

Ford remained silent.

“So, then I finally managed it all, finally got everything together. I got YOU back and the world didn’t end-”

”Yet.” Ford thought bitterly.

“-But this whole ideal, this thing that used to keep me going for so fucking long, this thing that I waited 40 years for, never happened. I wanted you back so badly, for so long, that I never even considered where I would be-”

Stanford thought back to a few days ago. Seeing the familiar swirl of energy in the distance. The mixed feelings of relief, anger, and resentment. As he had walked closer to the portal he had almost hoped it would disappear, and resented his growing excitement.

“-and now it feels like things are worse. I’m old, I can’t change my life for the better now. It’s too late, and I find myself sometimes... sometimes wishing I never brought you back.”  

A sharp pang bloomed within Ford’s chest, and he watched his brother’s one eye widen, clearly shocked at his own confession; the way his mouth could betray his body like that. Stan put his face in his hands, and Ford could hear every shaky intake of breath. 

“I’m a fucking monster and I hate myself for it.” 

Stan dropped his hands from his face. Shoulders hunched head bowed, he was an image of defeat and guilt. The pose was all too familiar to Ford, it reminded him of the talks they had once had on Glass Shard Beach. Sitting on the public swings that might as well have had their names on them. Where they'd go when home was too toxic or Stan had had a particularly bad fight with dad.

Stan was still talking. “I hate that the only time good things happen to me is when it involves you, and I hate how much of it fucking relief that is-”

That was it. Ford couldn’t just sit there anymore. “Stanley, stop,” he started, shifting his body closer to the other and placing his left hand on Stanley’s right shoulder. The unexpected touch and interruption evoked a flinch from Stanley.

“Stanley, look at me.”

Slowly, Stanley begrudgingly lifted and turned his head. A feeling of old anxiety thrummed through Stanford as their eyes meet. He felt like he was in high school again, all fingers and nowhere to put them. Stanley didn’t seem to be doing much better, his insecurity, fear, and confusion all radiating off him. Stanford couldn’t stand that look, couldn’t stand how natural it seemed on his brother's face.

Tightening him grip on his Stan's shoulder, Stanford used the leverage to lean in closer and lightly brush his lips against the other’s, placing his right hand onto Stan's cheek. The air felt still, seconds dragging by like eons. Stanford was about to pull back, to attempt to think up some panicked excuse for his actions. He was mentally debating whether or not he should just hole himself in the basement for a few years when a tentative hand cupped his own and he felt Stan's lips move against his, indicating for him to go further.   
Stanford nudged Stanley’s shoulder so that his torso was facing his, and pushed him against the armrest, forcing his head up to deepen the kiss. Stanford was practically on top of him now. He put all his frustration, helplessness, and regret into the kiss, memories rushing through his head.

Stanley asleep on the couch, snoring as his shirt rode up his stomach. Stanley doodling instead of writing down the equation as told. Stanley swinging next to him. Stanley’s flushed cheeks after they snuck into Dad’s liquor cabinet. Stanley kissing the corners of Ford’s mouth. Stanley crying. Stanley laughing.  StanleyStanleyStanleyStanleyStanleyStanleyStanleyStanleyStanleyStanley...   

Stanley let out a small grunt in surprise, willingly taking whatever Stanford could give him. The kiss was filled with teeth, tongue, and desperation. His right hand fell to grip Stanford’s sleeve, and his left grasped on to Stanford’s wrist, trying his best to hold on. 

When Stanford let up, he pressed his forehead against his twin. Their hard breathing intermingling between them for a few moments. “...Thank you.”

Stanley froze, his hand falling from his brother’s wrist as Stanford lifted his head to look him in the eyes.

“What you did was stupid, and could possibly bring on the end of the world...but thank you.”

Stanley started at him with disbelief, processing the words he'd never expected to hear. His face contorted as he let out a sob, finally breaking down. He pressed his cheek into Stanford’s hand, crying harder when Stanford wiped his tears away, going in for another kiss.

-

Stanley wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck, it was less aggressive this time, almost tentative. Ford relished those burly, bare arms brushing against his head, blocking his peripheral view. Giving him no choice but to make Stanley his entire focus.

Ford shift their positions till he was straddling the other, the size of the beat up love seat making things uncomfortable. Stanley's feet kept bumping into the armrest opposite of his and Ford's limbs kept sinking into the cushions. They were two grown-ass men sprawled on old furniture like a pair of teenagers. It didn't stop Ford from grinding down on his brother's pelvis with a moan.

Stanley's fingers found their way into thick grey hair. It was all so familiar, like deja vu in monochrome. He didn't want to risk moving too suddenly. To risk the possibility that Stanford would change his mind and stop, leaving him alone. Stanford would probably come to his senses later, realize that this was a mistake. For now though, Stanley could take anything he could get. He never dreamed in color anyway. “Are you sure- HAAH- Are you sure that you want to do this out here?” Stanley spoke.

Stanford almost didn't hear him, too focused on attempting to remove his three piece suit, while simultaneously grinding against him. While he enjoyed his brother's new sleek attire, it make for tedious undressing. Frustrated, he managed to undo the blazer and tie before he simply ripped the shirt open. Buttons forcefully popped from their seams and fell every which way. Stanley gave a huff of annoyance as the sound of clattered buttons echoed on dusky wood. 

Ford gazed down with a triumphant grin. The image below him was too good. With Stanley's blazer open and shirt gaping, he could finally see the other's chest. Ford trailed his hands down Stanley's pectorals, combing through the thick hair. Entranced, Ford gently squeezed, feeling the give of soft skin and relaxed muscle. 

“I did say I needed fresh air.” Ford replied, dipping down to nip at his brother's neck. "-and I see that you are in need of a little of it too." He wanted to see if he could still illicit the same reactions out of his twin's body. Sliding his hand up, he pinched pinched a nipple, the body underneath him jolted with a muffled moan. It seemed that Stanley had the same sweet spots and Stanford was ready to take advantage of them. 

"That doesn't make any sense-HNNGG." Stanley started as Ford gave an exceptionally hard suck to the other's collarbone as one hand cupped Stanley's erection. Using his other hand to take his time playing around the wide span of chest before him. Stanley's nipples had always been so soft soft and sensitive. It was why when they were younger, Stanley would take off his shirt on long hot days at the beach. His face red from more than a sunburn as he murmured that the shirt was chafing his nipples raw. When they got home, Ford loved to push Stan against a wall in their room and lav the abused nubs. Stanley biting his knuckles to attempt to stop the high pitched whine from being heard outside of their room. The arms around Ford's neck moved, taking Ford out of his flash back. They trailed down his back, tugging up at the hem of his turtleneck. 

“I want to feel you too,” Stanley insisted. His face was beat red and his eyes averted to the side. “I want to see you.” A sudden wave of self-consciousness formed in Ford's chest. His brother hadn't seen his body in over forty years, hadn't seen what he had to put it through. He wasn't ready for that conversation just yet. No, he wanted tonight to be about Stanley. He was finally getting what he wanted after so many years, he refused to have anything interrupt it. He pressed his palm against Stanley's hardness, eliciting a groan. Making quick work, it wasn't long till Stanley's hard felt the summer night air. 

Stanford moved back up from his position, kissing his brother on the nose. “Well, then get on with it.” Stanford teased. Taking the hands at the hem of his shirt, he brought them down to the front of his pants. "The one who is most interested to see you is right here." Hearing a huff Ford felt Stanley's answer to his silent invitation to release his erection from its confines. 

Stanley was having a bit of trouble getting Stanford's pants off. He cursed under his breath as he fumbled with the button, distracted by Stanford's attention. He had a feeling that Ford would try and derail him from taking off his top. The first night he was back, the man practically pushed him out of the room after Stanley came up with a set of new clothes. Stan had hoped that he was distracted enough this time, it was worth a shot. It was something he would have to bring up at a less excitable date. With that particular thought filed away, Stanley continued to work at the task at hand. After a few fumbled attempts, he finally managing to unbutton the deviled slacks, his hand delves into his brother's underwear, rubbing this thumb over the wet head.

“How-how do you want to do this?” Ford panted out. Stanley frowned, doing this here unplanned made what they could do limited. "We don't have anything out here."

“Too late now.” Stanley said with a light shrug as he brought it hand back and spat in it. He cocked his brow at the grimaced look on Ford's face. "What, you want to go back inside and look?"

"No, it's just.." Stanley brought his hand back to Ford's erection, giving it a slick tug. "..Unsanita-HHNNGG." Stanford's hips pushed into the other's hand. 

"Thirty years in an alternate dimension, with god knows what, and you are afraid of a little adult spit n' shake." Stanley muttered adoringly. Ford glared as he begrudgingly spat into his palm.

Their handed connected, jerking and rubbing their cocks together in unison. Stanford bowed over Stanley, resting his head on the other's shoulder, watching the movement of their hands. Stanley took this opportunity to mouth at Stanford's neck. His free hand gripping Ford's jacket. Ford could feel the sweat dripping off of him. The spit was barely enough as their hips rocked with each other. The sound of their hard breathing was deafening to the silence of the Oregon summer night. 

“M-missed you S-Sixer.” He heard the other mutter, panting into his ear. “Never thought, never thought I could see you-ah ah ah ah.” The pace of their hands grew quicker. 

Stanford straightened up, taking his and Stanley's hands away from their members. Achieving a whine from the other. Shushing him with a kiss Ford put his hands on Stanley's hips and started rutting against him. Stanley bit his lip, holding back a sound that escaped as a keen. Stanford couldn't help but stare. Stanley's eye were half open, staring up at him. His hands gripping the couch cushions, arms bulging from the strain. 

"M-me to" Stanford groaned, the chorus of "Stanley Stanley Stanley" running over and over in his head. He didn't realize, he didn't fucking realize just how much he missed him. It was like reclaiming a limb. For decades, Ford had been trying to avoid it, this feelings. Now that it was here though, now that he had his brother under him, biting his lip and lifting his hips to meet his. Eye's refusing to close to see every reaction, to never miss a moment. Ford wondered why he choose to walk away from this, choose to attempt to move on with his life when all of this was here. 

It wasn't much longer now. The air was hot and humid. Stanford leaned down and started mouthing Stanley's neck. His hips picking up the pace for better friction. All Stanley could do was attempt to meet his pace and hold on. Stanford's vision whited out, offhanded aware that he was groaning against Stan's neck as he reached orgasm. The sound of his pulse rushing roared in his ears. At the sound of Ford's groan vibrating into this neck, Stanley was done. The realization of what they were doing, something he never thought he could have again, was too much. Feeling like he was tearing the couch cushions in half, Stanley bit his lip and bucked one last time before his orgasm ripped through him. Both men mindlessly rutting against each other, riding out their orgasms until there was nothing left. 

They laid there, breathing hard as the summer night did little to cool off their heated bodies. Ford felt rung out, their escapades taking more out of him that anticipated. Looking down between them, he grimaced at the mess they both made. A chuckled rumbled through the chest underneath him. Stanford looked up, it was the first time he had heard him laugh in years. There was Stanley, looking utterly relaxed. His skin flush and soft, looking at him with a small smile. Ford could feel his heart flutter. 

Stanley gave a sigh and rubbed his brow with his clean hand. “Look at us, pair of old men jerking each other off like teenagers. It's embarrassing.” Looking through his fingers he added, “Can't say it wasn't fun though.” 

Stanford cleared his throat “Yes, I concur.” They shifted, feeling the mess between them, and making the same grimaced face. 

“I should probably-” Stanford gets up, suddenly feeling embarrassed. 

“Yeah” Stanley replies too quickly. They straighten themselves out the best they could. Both eventually sitting side by side, avoiding eye contact. Silence enveloped them again, neither one entirely sure where to move on from this. Stanley frowned, looking down at his ruined dress shirt and pants.

“This...” Stanley spoke first, waving his hand to indicate the both of them. “This doesn't fix everything you know.”

Stanford started to slump his shoulders, he knew it was coming, the other shoe had to drop at some point. This was just a one time thing, something done at the heat of the moment. He braced himself.

“But..” Stanley muttered, nervously rubbing the ruined shirt between his fingers. “I'm... I'm willing to try and work on this if you are.” 

It was all Ford could to but to grab his brother's face with both hands and kiss him, he held back the erg. “Y-yeah” He managed to mumble out. When did everything feel like high school again? He was too fucking old for this.

“Good. Well, I don't know about you” Stanley gets up and stretches. “But I need a shower and a bed.” He looked down at himself “And a new suit.”

“Sorry about that.” Ford sheepishly responds. “Common, common” Stanley said dismissively, pulling Ford from the couch, “I've had enough talking for one day." He presses his lips against Ford's “Lets go inside.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was written a few months back and I finally got around to finishing it. I'm sure there are a few grammatical and spelling errors. This was also a serious attempt at writing a sex scene, so please give me pointers! I hope you enjoyed this!


End file.
